


Undone

by boudicca



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, M/M, Physical Strength
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-14
Updated: 2011-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:25:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boudicca/pseuds/boudicca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America is foolish, and he is arrogant - but for all that, he is <i>strong</i>.  Magnificently strong.</p><p>And when he holds Russia down on the floor in his office and makes him beg, it is as exhilarating as anything Russia has experienced in a very long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undone

**Author's Note:**

> De-anon from the kinkmeme.

It is exhausting, looking after the world.

There are so many times when he would like to _stop_ , not look after anyone but himself. Spend some time away from the party and the republics he watches over, take a break from the constant balancing act. Just get some relief from the burden that is maintaining his people's well-being. He believes in what he is doing - you do not need to look far to see that the way things were before was going nowhere - and cannot deny its importance, but it is _exhausting_.

Taking a break is not something he can choose to do, however much he might like to.

It makes times like this all the more invigorating.

America is naive and foolish, entrusting the well-being of his people to the greed of others, and he is arrogant, so quick to involve himself in the affairs of younger nations still finding their footing - but for all that, he is _strong_. Magnificently strong.

And when he holds Russia down on the floor in his office and makes him beg, and the reason why Russia doesn't wiggle his way free, _show_ the boy who should be begging, is because he _can't_ \- that is... that is as exhilarating as anything Russia has experienced in a very long time.

It's close - Russia can see the movement of America's muscles under his skin, he has to _work_ to overpower Russia - but in the end he is stronger, and Russia knows it, but he presses against where America has pinned his arms anyway, because the sensation of straining as hard as he can and getting nowhere is heady and intoxicating, and seeing America grit his teeth, still smiling, and press, hold him firm, is almost as good as the physical restraint.

Russia's cock is as hard as it's ever been and maybe he should feel embarrassed about that, getting so turned on from his sworn enemy rutting against him while he's helpless to resist, but America is hard too and Russia isn't sure whether America is grinding their hips together just to keep Russia still or whether he's getting off on it as much as Russia is.

The tension in his limbs is a pleasant burn, and there is the dull pain of being so hard with his cock straining against his fly, but that's all he feels. The weight of the world, as they call it, is forgotten with the weight of his opponent pushing against him instead.

After a few grunted words Russia doesn't both trying to catch, America releases one arm, reaching to undo his own fly, and with his newly freed hand Russia swipes at America, not really sure whether his intent is to cause pleasure or pain as he scrapes his fingernails down America's side.

America jerks, catches Russia's hand and squeezes. For a moment the grip is so tight that Russia wonders if America might actually be trying to break his hand, but then it loosens, pushes Russia's hand back above his head. America's cock is out now and he shifts, moving up to sit on Russia's chest. It's excruciatingly wonderful when America's ass slids, not at all gently, over the bulge at Russia's crotch.

America pins Russia's hands over his head with one hand. With the other, he seizes a clump of Russia's hair and forces his head up, twisting his neck at an awkward angle so that he can push his cock into Russia's mouth. He does it carelessly, making Russia's throat contort around the head and he grunts in appreciation, barely moving back before thrusting in again even as Russia's gag reflex is bringing tears to his eyes. America lets up after a few more choking strokes, letting Russia move his head enough to to take America's cock more comfortably. America is still fucking his mouth, just not quite hard enough to gag him anymore.

Russia pulls back his lips, lets an eyetooth slip along America's skin.

America makes a noise of disapproval, pulling out. He releases his grip on Russia's hair, letting Russia's head drop, snapping the trail of saliva dangling from his cock to Russia's lips.

The skin of Russia's cheek sings with prickly pain as America slaps him, hard.

America is shifting back down his body, and the pressure on Russia's bound prick makes him moan a little before he stifles it.

America tugs his own pants off before putting his hands between Russia's thighs and forcing them apart. He settles his ass in between, a leg over each of Russia's, taut muscle holding Russia's legs in place. He undoes Russia's pants and Russia's cock pushes free. America wraps his hand around the thickness of Russia's cock, so hard it almost hurts. No, it does hurt, but in a way that mingles inseparably with pleasure.

He pumps Russia's cock fast and rough, the side of his hand slamming into Russia's abdomen with every down stroke.

It's just a handjob, Russia tells himself through the fog of lust overtaking his conscious mind. He should not be so worked up by -

But it's no use; he lets out a whimper and thrusts into America's fist as well as he can with his thighs pinned under America's.

"Commie slut," America mutters, the first thing he's said that Russia has understood in a long time.

The words jerk Russia back to himself for a moment, and he manages " _Pig_ " through clenched teeth, but it dissolves into a wordless moan. The heat at the bottom of his belly is building up, he's close to coming and America only hastens his pace, pushing him -

And _stopping_. Russia growls and America laughs, a rich, genuine laugh. He stands and tugs Russia's pants off in one relatively graceful movement.

America looks down on him with approval. "This is just about right," he declares, planting a bare foot on Russia's hip.

"America - "

"Wait," America interrupts. "I know what would make it better."

Russia looks at him warily. The stop in the action has cleared his head some but he's still aching to come, and does not appreciate the delay.

"Beg me," America instructs.

"I will not - "

America presses a little harder with his foot. "Should I make you?"

Russia doesn't reply and America leans over him. The pressure on his hip doubles and Russia contorts in pain.

" _Beg_ ," America repeats, eyes shining with intensity.

" _Please_ America, please," Russia babbles, not sure what exactly he's begging for.

Evidently it is enough. America grins wickedly and removes his foot. "Stay put," he commands.

Russia is not inclined to disobey, dizzied with pain and lust. He remains on the floor, boneless, 'til America returns to his sight, a small tube in his hand.

America crouches between his legs and squeezes a dollop of lube onto his fingers. He pushes his hand into the cleft of Russia's ass, a fingertip already teasing at Russia's hole.

Russia bites his lip at the sting as the finger slips in, but even as his body is clenching around the second knuckle, America is teasing his walls, raising the hair on his arms, stoking the burn of arousal in his gut. A second finger is pushing in now, and it hurts, his body fighting where his mind won't anymore, but the sensation is welcome. America's fingers press in deeper, probing, and Russia shivers involuntarily.

America splays his fingers and Russia can feel his body open, pain present but insignificant. America works Russia's hole for a few moments more before withdrawing his hand.

Russia feels America shift between his legs, and then the head of his cock against his twitching, eager asshole.

America pushes in, too fast and too slow all at once. Russia groans and tenses his legs 'til he's stopped by America's hands clenching his thighs with bruising intensity.

The first few thrusts are awkward, achy, and then something in Russia acquiesces and all he can feel is _need_.

America grips Russia's thigh, raising one of his legs. Russia is in no state to object, and hooks his leg over America's shoulder. America pounds into him, flesh slapping flesh.

His head is clouded, no room for coherent thought. The heat from before is a raging burn now, a delicious, maddening tension. America could stop now and it wouldn't stop him, but America does not and Russia's come spatters onto his stomach as America fucks him.

America is noisy when he comes, leaning into Russia and grinding as hard as he can into Russia's ass. Several moments after, he slides his cock out with a vulgar, wet pop.

America's chest is still heaving, but he leans over Russia, pinning his arms down. " _Commie_ ," he mutters breathlessly, in a curiously toneless way that leaves it unclear whether it's an insult or a term of affection.

Either will do.


End file.
